Biased and unprofessional reports on German books, translation issues and life in Berlin

Wednesday, 4 April 2012

Matthias Senkel, Frühe Vögel

Matthias Senkel's debut novel Frühe Vögel (Early Birds) tells the story of several generations of an aviation-obsessed
family, starting with Theodor Wilhelm Leudoldt around the turn of the last
century. Hailing from a modest background, he is fascinated by mathematics and
chess and rebels against his grandfather’s love of the railways to take an
interest in flying. Our hero works his way up through a job in an insurance
company to running a pioneering aviation company to not entirely voluntary
involvement in the Nazis’ V2 rocket programme, before being killed during an
air raid in Berlin. We also find out about his three marriages, one of
convenience and two for love, and his travels to Paris and London. During his
stay in Paris, Theodor hears the story of GökhanÇelebi, an aviation ace in 16th-century
Ottoman Turkey. The tale is long and entertaining, sidestepping to a
star-crossed love story, and warrants a whole chapter.

After Theodor’s death the perspective switches to his daughter, Ursula,
who is sent to an uncle while her engineer mother Gerlind is working in the
underground rocket factory. They are then whisked away to America to work on
the US space programme. Gerlind marries an all-American engineer and she and
Ursula fall pregnant at the same time. In one alternative ending, Ursula’s
daughter Michelle becomes the first woman on the moon but dies in the rushed
attempt to outrun the Soviets, while Ursula illustrates pulp science fiction
and ends up in a mental asylum. In the other version, Michelle dies at birth
and Ursula becomes a high-flying mathematician, returning to Germany for the
funeral of the family’s loyal retainer but still harbouring a touch of Cold War
paranoia. In both versions, Ursula and Michelle have to battle against sexism
to achieve their progressive goals.

Matthias Senkel draws up a new world in which the Soviet Union wins the
space race and a fictitious US senator becomes president. At the end point of
his projected history – related in his prologue so I don't think I'm giving too much away – Gerlind is in a retirement
home, watching a report on the new Gaia II biosphere being built in the form of
the perfect spaceship.

The book closes with an exhaustive appendix detailing the death of every
single character in the novel – and there are many of them. From uncles and
aunts to passing ticket collectors and sultans, from train and plane accidents
to cancers diagnosed and unknown, strokes, stray bullets, trenches and gulags,
this section is over 100 pages long and presents a historical panorama of
individuals, their lives and of course their deaths.

The chapter describing the Nazis’ attempt to recruit Theodor for their
rocket programme takes the form of a comic, illustrated by Maryna Zhdanko. It's drawn in the style of the pulp science fiction that plays a role in other
parts of the novel, playing on clichés of the fanatical Nazi and the refined,
wealthy engineering genius. Yet it continues Senkel’s quirky style, scattering
in obscure references to historical fact and fiction, such as the excellent
tomato crop in German Southwest Africa, and maintaining Theodor’s strong
character.

As befits a book about aerospace pioneers, the novel is highly
experimental (in case you hadn’t noticed already). The first two chapters on
Theodor are divided into episodes in alphabetical rather than chronological
order. While this seems rather arbitrary and presents a challenge for the
reader, it does make the whole experience rather fun. And patient readers will
find out in the appendix that the tidy-minded Theodor wrote his own life story,
aided by his retainer, on alphabetical index cards – hence the seemingly random
order. For those of a more chronological bent, Senkel provides links to the
next sections.

The language is equally playful, changing with each historical epoch.
The chapter set in Ottoman times is a delight and pre-1914 Germany also comes
across well, while 1950s America is a place of healthy teeth and rocking chairs
on verandas. Senkel adds echoes across time, for example showing us rather
risible arts clubs in both Theodor’s and Ursula’s very different youths. He
deliberately skirts around politics, allowing us to guess at what is going on
when Gerlind is invited to the USA through his child protagonist, for example,
and only spelling out the use of slave labour in the V2 programme in an oblique
way in the appendix.

Senkel studied on the Leipzig creative writing programme but this novel
isn't a typical product of that course, in that it's anything but
autobiographical. What is typical - in a very good way - is that it shows a wide range of influences, from
science fiction to James Joyce to TS Elliot (with Madame Sosostris putting in a
cameo appearance, among other things). The major characters are very strong and
provide good impetus for the storyline. However, I found Senkel did lose sight of his
story towards the end of the novel and it peters out with Ursula’s
unspectacular return to Germany, despite an alluring promise of Cold War
intrigue that is never fulfilled. Disappointed, I then found the appendix too
long and uniform to make comfortable reading, despite its delicious black humour.

Nevertheless, the book was well worth reading
with its sweeping historical panorama, dark humour and alternative futures.
Certainly readers interested in fictional experiments will have a great deal
of fun with it.

Senkels book seems to be a very interesting one, and if Thomas Pynchon is one of his influences, well, it could be much worse.There seem to be a couple of (younger) writers from Leipzig who are creating their very own kind of literature by mixing fiction and fact and working it all out in a quite experimental way. I've just read a novel by Francis Nenik, which was published in Leipzig by ed. cetera. It's called "XO" and though I didn't get everything I read, it was big fun.(Much more then "Faust" - haha ;-))